I’m at the hospital to see my brother and I saw a nurse on her break eating and she was reading The Hunger Games, and I probably looked like a weirdo because I couldn’t stop staring at the book.
“Sarah! Halt all factory work immediately! An important email from Mayor Monfort is coming.” —District 8 (panemoctober.com text message)
“I felt, that night, on that stage, under that skull, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What’s so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What’s so great about feeling and dreaming?” —Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)
Reblog if you cry over the deaths of fictional characters.
Still NO Pottermore email.
Set me up with a boy who loves reading and has an obsession with Harry Potter and The Hunger Games. I'll marry him.
“It’s kind of like when you look at yourself in the mirror and you say your name. And it get’s to the point where none of it seems real. Well, sometimes, I can do that, but I don’t need an hour in front of the mirror. It happens really fast, and things start to slip away. And I just open my eyes, and I see nothing. And then I start to breathe really fast trying to see something, but I can’t. It doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does, it scares me.” —The Perks Of Being A Wallflower (via salveo)